HEROES  0^  HISTORY 


THE  YOUTH'S  COMPANION 
BOSTON,   MASS. 


/ 


Publishers9  Notice. 

REAL,  MEN  in  real  deeds  of  heroism  arouse 
universal  admiration  and  a  healthy  ambition 
in  the  minds  of  youth.  Considering  this  fact,  the 
Editors  of  The  Youth's  Companion  are  constantly 
searching  for  worthy  accounts  of  worthy  deeds  with 
which  to  embellish  the  pages  of  "  The  Family  Paper 


THE  LIBRARY  OF  THE 

UNIVERSITY  OF 

NORTH  CAROLINA 

AT  CHAPEL  HILL 


ENDOWED  BY  THE 

DIALECTIC  AND  PHILANTHROPIC 

SOCIETIES 


SCHOOL 


J920 
Heroes 


00022245544 


Heroes  of  History. 


UNIVERSITY  OF  N.C.  AT  CHAPEL  HILL 


The  Companion  Library. 

Number  Thirty. 


SELECTIONS 

From  The  Youth's  Companion. 


CONTENTS. 


HEROES   OF   LAKE   CHAMPLAIN 
DECATUR'S   DASH  AT  TRIPOLI 
A  TEAMSTER  AT  GETTYSBURG 
SINKING  THE  ALBEMARLE     . 
A  NIGHT   RIDE   IN  ZULULAND 
A  TORPEDO-BOAT   IN  ACTION 


Page 

Walter  Leon  Sawyer  3 

.     M.  A.  Phillips  14 

.    Free  S.  Bowley  26 

T.  C.  Hoyt  34 

Archibald  Forbes  42 

F.  R.  Lance  51 


Copyright  1905. 

Perry  Mason  Company, 

Boston,  Mass. 


'strike  northeast  and  round  that  gunboat." 


HEROES  OF  LAKE  CHAMPLAIN. 

TO  know  that  Ticonderoga  was  still  in  the 
hands  of  the  British  galled  American  pride. 
Yet  there  seemed  no  help  for  it.  Colonel 
Brown,  with  five  hundred  men,  had  surprised  all 
the  British  posts  between  the  northern  end  of 
Lake  George  and  the  fortress  at  Ticonderoga. 

But  Ticonderoga  itself  had  resisted  so  suc- 
cessfully that  there  was  danger  of  a  sortie  upon 
Brown's  weary  and  battle-wasted  soldiers;  and 
his  only  reinforcements  were  on  the  other  side 
of  the  lake,  which  the  British,  roused  to  activity 
by  his  presence,  patrolled  night  and  day. 

It  was  under  these  circumstances  that  Colonel 
Brown  called  his  men  together  on  a  certain 
September  afternoon. 

"I  must  communicate  with  General  Lincoln," 
the  colonel  said,  when  he  had  pictured  the 
situation.  "You  know  what  that  means.  Two 
men  must  swim  the  lake.  Two,  because  they 
can  help  each  other,  and  —  because  one  may  be 
captured,  and  the  despatches  must  not  fail.  I 
shall  not  order  any  man  to  do  this.  Who  will 
volunteer  to  risk  his  life  for  his  country?" 


4  HEROES   OF   LAKE   CHAMPLAIN. 

"  I'll  go  for  one! "  came  in  quick  response. 
"Ephraim   Webster.     Good!"     The    colonel 
looked  with  critical  approval  at  the  stout  young 


COLONEL   BROWN   WITH    FIVE   HUNDRED    MEN. 

fellow  who  stepped  from  the  ranks  so  gaily. 
" Thank  you,  Webster,"  he  added.  "It's  no 
frolic,  I  assure  you.  But  you  were  at  Bunker 
Hill;  you  know  a  soldier's  duty!" 


HEROES  OF   LAKE  CHAMPLAIN.  5 

''Who'll  go  with  Webster?"  he  asked,  a 
moment  later.  "I  realize  the  peril,  men;  you 
may  drown;  the  British  may  shoot  or  hang 
you;  but  there's  a  chance  of  getting  through 
and  saving  the  campaign.     Who  volunteers?" 

A  man  of  Webster's  age,  but  less  strongly 
built  than  he,  came  quietly  forward. 

"Richard  Wallace!"  the  commander  hailed 
him.  "  I  knew  Vermont  would  not  lag  behind 
New  Hampshire!  Your  townsfolk  in  Thetford 
will  be  proud,  Wallace,  when  they  hear  of  this." 

"Come  to  my  tent  an  hour  before  sunset," 
Colonel  Brown  ordered,  as  he  dismissed  the 
force.     "  Until  that  time  the  day  is  yours." 

"  I  ought  to  have  left  it  to  some  one  else, 
Ephraim,"  Wallace  said,  mournfully,  after  a 
while.     "  I  don't  know  as  I  can  do  it." 

"Nonsense,  Dick!  Haven't  I  seen  you  swim 
farther,  just  for  fun?" 

"Perhaps;  but  not  in  September,  with  the 
night  chill  on  the  water." 

"You'll  be  warm  enough  after  we  get  started. 
I've  known  you  to  feel  just  the  same  way  before 
we  went  into  a  fight;  but  you  didn't  run,  did 
you?     I  ain't  afraid  of  you,  Dick!" 

Nor  was  the  officer  who,  at  Colonel  Brown's 
order,  went  with  them,  later  on,  to  advise  in  the 


6  HEROES   OF   LAKE   CHAMPLAIN. 

choice  of  a  route.  While  the  daylight  lasted 
they  climbed  a  hill  that  commanded  the  lake. 

The  British  fleet  was  on  the  alert.  Evidently 
the  shores  on  each  side  were  constantly  watched. 
At  that  moment  signals  were  passing  between 
the  flag -ship  and  Ticonderoga.  The  patriots 
saw  the  patrol  -  boat  threading  amongst  the 
larger  craft,  and  remembered  that  she  would 
be  even  more  vigilant  when  darkness  fell. 

"The  distance  across  is  about  a  mile  at  this 
point,"  the  officer  observed.  "  By  the  course 
you  must  take,  it  will  be  nearer  two.  Strike 
northeast  and  round  that  upper  gunboat.  Then 
I'd  head  for  that  point  of  woods.  You'll  probably 
find  Lincoln's  camp  south  of  the  fort.  There'll 
be  British,  I  guess,  between  you  and  it.  Better 
start  right  for  it,  without  waiting  for  daylight." 

" That's  so!"  laughed  Webster.  "The  red- 
coats can  see  too  far  when  the  sun  shines." 

The  night  came  on  cloudy  and  with  a  late 
moon.  The  gentle  breeze  died  with  the  sun, 
and  the  warmth  of  the  day  seemed  to  vanish  as 
quickly.  There  was  an  autumnal  sharpness  in 
the  quiet  air  that  pierced  to  the  bone. 

"I  dread  cramp  more  than  I  do  the  British!" 
Webster  said,  through  chattering  teeth,  as  he 
rolled  up  his  clothing. 


HEROES   OF   LAKE   CHAMPLAIN.  7 

Now  that  the  time  for  action  had  come, 
Wallace  had  no  more  doubts.  "  We'll  get  warm 
in  the  water,"  he  answered,  cheerfully. 

Their  friendly  officer  helped  them  to  fasten 
their  bundles  of  clothing  by  cords  that  crossed 
from  the  forehead  to  the  back  of  the  neck. 
Then  he  shook  hands  with  them,  silently  and 
solemnly,  there  in  the  darkness,  and  the  volun- 
teers dropped  into  the  black  water  and  began 
the  long  struggle  across  the  lake. 

They  swam  with  long,  steady  strokes,  hus- 
banding their  strength.  Although  they  kept 
together,  they  exchanged  few  words.  Occa- 
sional sounds  from  the  vessels  came  so  sharply 
to  the  swimmers  that  the  fear  of  betraying  their 
own  presence  set  a  seal  on  their  lips. 

Webster  had  quickened  his  pace  and  left 
Wallace  behind.  The  British  vessels  showed 
few  lights,  save  from  the  officers'  quarters ;  and 
it  was  easy  to  avoid  these  beams  that  made 
infrequent  pathways  through  the  gloom. 

Clear  of  the  ships,  Webster  delayed  for  his 
friend.  It  was  unsafe  to  call  to  him.  He 
would  not  have  waited  so  calmly  had  he  known 
that  at  that  moment  Wallace  was  facing  death. 

The  danger  threatened  from  an  unlooked-for 
source.     A  sudden   incautious    movement    had 


8  HEROES   OF   LAKE   CHAMPLAIN. 

thrown  the  cord  from  Wallace's  forehead.  The 
weight  of  the  bundle  of  clothing  drew  and 
tightened  it  round  his  throat. 

"As  though  the  British  had  me  at  the  yard- 
arm  ! "  he  muttered. 

It  seemed  a  simple  thing  to  release  himself, 
and  he  smiled  at  his  own  grim  joke  as,  treading 
water,  he  put  his  hand  to  the  cord.  The  first 
effort  showed  him  that  this  was  no  laughing 
matter.  The  cord  seemed  momentarily  to  con- 
tract and  slip  from  him  as  he  strove  to  replace  it. 

One  of  the  smaller  gunboats  was  just  ahead 
of  him.  A  bell  sounded.  He  heard  the  watch 
call  the  hour  and  cry,  "All's  well!"  All  well! 
And  he  was  strangling ! 

A  formless  shape  swept  across  the  darkness, 
and  his  tortured  senses  were  conscious  of  the 
gentle  dip  of  muffled  oars.  The  patrol-boat 
was  on  her  rounds.  Life  was  sweet.  A  few 
strokes  would  take  him  to  the  boat.  There  he 
would  find  help,  aye,  a  welcome!  The  British 
would  not  harm  him  if  he  revealed  the  patriots' 
plans.  But  his  conscience  revolted.  Better 
die  than  betray  his  country! 

There  was  a  ringing  in  his  ears.  Sparks  of 
flame  shot  across  his  field  of  vision.  But  in  his 
fierce  impatience  at  his  own  weak  thought,  he 


HEROES   OF   LAKE   CHAMPLAIN.  9 

made  a  last  desperate  clutch  at  the  cord,  pulled 

it  into  place,  and  was  again  free  to  go  forward. 

He  made  his  way,  with  effort,  to  the  nearest 


THE   BRITISH    FLEET   WAS    ON   THE    ALERT. 


vessel,  and  held  himself  up  by  her  cable  while 
he  drew  in  long  breaths  of  the  cool  night  air. 

His  strength  returned,  and  with  it  came  the 
consciousness  that  this  was  no  safe  resting-place. 
He  slipped  into  the  water  and  paddled  away. 


10  HEROES   OF   LAKE   CHAMPLAIN. 

Presently  a  faint  whistle  guided  him  to  Webster. 

"All  right,  Dick?"  Webster  asked. 

"All  right,"  was  the  cheering  reply. 

It  was  time  to  turn  southward,  and  they  took 
the  new  course,  although  it  was  half  a  matter  of 
chance.  For  ten  minutes  they  held  it  without  in- 
cident; then  there  broke  out  in  the  fleet  an  uproar 
that  almost  persuaded  them  they  were  discovered. 

Shots  were  fired,  and  they  heard  the  noise  of 
boats  getting  away.  But  the  lights  showed  that 
these  were  moving  toward  the  western  shore, 
whence  the  patriots  had  come ;  and  the  relief  of 
that  knowledge  brought  renewal  of  vigor. 

Weeks  after,  they  learned  that  a  deserter  had 
tried  to  swim  ashore  and  had  drowned  when 
nearly  within  reach  of  safety.  Then  they  knew 
that  if  he  had  left  his  ship  but  a  little  earlier  the 
pursuit  would  have  resulted  in  their  capture. 

Ignorant  as  they  were  of  such  cause  for  thank- 
fulness, the  moments  dragged  on.  But  at  last 
the  long  swim  ended.  Just  as  Wallace  touched 
a  bough  that  overhung  the  water,  he  heard  his 
comrade's  voice,  sounding  faint  and  far  away : 

"  Help,  Dick !     I'm  sinking !  " 

An  instant  served  Wallace  to  jump  ashore, 
break  off  the  branch,  and  plunge  in  again.  A 
second,  feebler  cry  led  him    to  Webster;    and 


HEROES   OF  LAKE   CHAMPLAIN. 


11 


the  next  moment  saw  the  drowning  man  and 
his  rescuer  on  dry  land. 

Cramp  had  assailed  Webster,  and  he  was 
helpless.  Wallace  opened  their  bundles,  and 
rubbed  him  until  the  circulation  was  restored; 
then  they  set  off  in  search  of  their  friends. 

The  moon  had  risen  while  they  lingered,  and 
although  the  forest  was  pathless,  and  dark 
enough  at  best,  they  made  fair  progress.  They 
had   but   a   vague    idea   of    General    Lincoln's 


RUINS   OF    FORT   TICONDEROGA. 


whereabouts ;  yet  it  seemed  that  following  the 
direction  they  had  taken  they  must  reach  him. 

An  hour  went  by,  and  the  toilsome  tramp 
showed  no  result.  All  at  once,  from  a  clump 
of  trees  came  the  challenge,  "  Who  goes  there?" 

They  halted,  but  made  no  answer. 

Webster,  who    led,  stooped  and  gathered   a 


12  HEROES   OF   LAKE   CHAMPLAIN. 

handful  of  earth,  his  purpose  clearly  in  mind. 
They  knew  they  must  be  very  near  the  friend 
or  enemy  who  had  spoken,  and  with  fast-beating- 
hearts  they  stood  still  and  waited. 

It  was  no  long  wait.  There  was  a  flash  and 
a  crackle,  a  birch-bark  torch  flared  into  a  blaze, 
and  by  the  light  they  saw  that  their  challenger 
was  a  British  sentinel. 

Webster  threw  his  handful  of  earth  with  steady 
aim.  It  smote  the  torch  to  the  ground  and 
extinguished  it.  The  sentry  discharged  his  gun, 
but  the  bullet  whistled  harmlessly  past  them. 

Before  the  report  had  ceased  to  echo,  they 
were  far  away  from  the  spot,  running  with  that 
long,  swinging  and  almost  noiseless  stride  that 
marks  the  trained  woodsman. 

There  was  no  pursuit;  or,  if  any,  it  took  the 
wrong  course.  Unmolested,  they  skirted  the 
fortifications  on  Mount  Independence,  and  still 
scatheless,  they  turned  toward  the  lake  again. 

Thus  they  went,  till  the  night  seemed  endless 
and  the  quest  hopeless.  They  pushed  on  dog- 
gedly, for  theirs  was  not  the  temper  which 
succumbs ;  but  the  rough  road  and  their  aching 
limbs  made  every  step  a  torture.  When  they 
spoke,  in  whispers,  it  was  only  to  cheer  each 
other  with  hope  of  speedy  arrival. 


HEROES   OF   LAKE   CHAMPLAIN.  13 

"Halt!  Who  goes  there?"  brought  them  to 
a  sudden  stand,  when  they  were  almost  spent. 

"Friends!"  Webster  answered,  recklessly. 

"  Advance,  friends,  and  give  the  countersign !  " 

It  was  a  moment  of  desperate  anxiety.  They 
were  discovered.  They  doubted  that  strength 
would  serve  them  for  another  dash  through  the 
woods.  What  to  do?  It  was  with  hardly  any 
hope,  save  that  of  gaining  time,  that  Wallace 
demanded :   "  Whose  friend  are  you  ?" 

And  then  the  patriots  learned  that  the  long 
night  of  effort  had  come  to  a  happy  end,  when 
the  invisible  sentry  said,  in  the  earnest  voice  of 
an  honest  man:   "America's!     God  bless  her !  " 

This  is  a  true  story.  Wallace  and  Webster 
are  no  fictitious  heroes,  and  in  all  important 
details  this  recital  follows  established  facts. 

In  the  immediate  and  practical  sense,  their 
exploit  had  no  result.  Nothing  noteworthy 
came  of  the  message  to  General  Lincoln. 

Yet  we  know  that  a  noble  deed  is  never 
wasted.  The  man  who  performs  it  sets  a  new 
star  in  the  sky.  Because  we  can  look  up  to  it, 
we  are  better  citizens,  truer  Americans,  than 
we  would  be  if  Wallace  and  Webster  had  not 
ventured  their  lives  for  their  country. 

Walter  Leon  Sawyer. 


DECATUR'S  DASH  AT  TRIPOLI. 

FOR  years  previous  to  1804  American  mer- 
chant shipping  in  the  Mediterranean  suffered 
from  the  depredations  of  the  Barbary  states. 
Hundreds  of  our  citizens  were  held  in  captivity, 
and  were  compelled  to  labor  as  slaves  till  their 
friends  paid  enormous  sums  of  ransom  money. 

The  pashas  even  demanded  tribute  for  the 
protection  of  our  commerce,  and  their  insolence 
was  so  intolerable  that  Captain  Bainbridge, 
who  had  been  sent  with  the  annual  tribute, 
wrote,  "I  hope  I  shall  never  again  be  sent  to 
Algiers  with  tribute,  unless  I  am  authorized  to 
deliver  it  from  the  mouths  of  our  cannon." 

The  opportunity  came  that  very  year.  A 
fleet  of  seven  vessels  was  sent  to  redress  the 
outrages  on  our  merchant  marine.  One  of  the 
earliest  incidents  of  the  expedition  was  the  loss 
of  the  frigate  Philadelphia,  in  which  Captain 
Bainbridge  had  chased  a  corsair  into  the  port  of 
Tripoli.  In  attempting  to  beat  off,  she  ran  on 
a  hidden  reef  outside  the  harbor,  and  fell  into 
the  hands  of  the  barbarians. 

The  sight  of  this  fine  frigate,  once  the  pride 


DECATUR'S   DASH  AT  TRIPOLI.  15 

of  our  navy  but  now  in  the  possession  of  the 
corsairs,  with  her  guns  turned  against  those 
who  had  built  her,  filled  the  hearts  of  the  Ameri- 
can officers  with  emotions  of  the  profoundest 
chagrin.  In  the  mind  of  none  of  them  did  these 
emotions  rankle  more  deeply  than  in  that  of 
young  Lieut.  Stephen  Decatur,  and  from  this 
moment  he  conceived  the  bold  idea  of  entering 
the  port  by  night  and  recapturing  the  frigate 
where  she  lay,  under  the  guns  of  the  castle. 

By  urging  his  scheme  as  the  only  means  of 
success,  he  at  length  won  from  Commodore 
Preble  a  reluctant  consent  to  attempt  the  exploit. 

The  entrance  to  the  port  of  Tripoli  was  but 
little  known  to  American  sailors;  there  were 
dangerous  reefs  about  it,  on  one  of  which  the 
Philadelphia  had  been  lost.  Moreover,  within 
the  harbor  lay  a  numerous  fleet  of  piratical 
vessels,  while  the  Philadelphia  herself,  anchored 
close  under  the  high  walls  of  the  citadel,  was 
reported  to  have  been  converted  into  a  veritable 
floating  castle,  and  to  be  manned  by  a  crew  of  a 
thousand  Tripolitans.  Nevertheless,  Decatur 
believed  that  she  might  be  retaken,  and  he  at 
once  called  for  volunteers  to  go  with  him. 

Seventy  men  eagerly  offered,  among  them  a 
brave  Sicilian   pilot,  Salvadore    Catalano,  who, 


16  DECATUR'S  DASH   AT  TRIPOLI. 

fired  by  the  accounts  of  our  free  land  and  free 
institutions,  had  entered  our  service  at  Syracuse. 

A  small  vessel,  recently  captured  from  the 
pirates,  was  selected  to  transport  the  attacking 
party.  Its  name  was  changed  from  the  Mastico 
to  the  ketch  Intrepid,  a  name  which  will  be 
forever  famous  in  the  annals  of  our  navy. 

The  party  embarked  on  the  evening  of  Feb- 
ruary 3,  1804,  and  Lieutenant  Stewart,  desir- 
ing to  accompany  the  expedition,  was  given 
permission  to  do  so  in  his  brig,  Siren. 

Thinking  it  possible  that  it  might  be  necessary 
to  set  fire  to  the  Philadelphia,  the  Intrepid  was 
stored  with  combustibles,  and  virtually  converted 
into  a  fire-ship.  The  Siren  was  to  bring  off 
Decatur  and  his  party  in  case  the  Intrepid  was 
burned.  Preble  had  strongly  advised  Decatur 
to  make  no  attempt  to  bring  out  the  frigate, 
but  to  burn  her  or  blow  her  up  at  her  moorings. 

After  a  pleasant  voyage  of  a  little  more  than 
three  days,  the  Intrepid  and  the  Siren  arrived 
in  sight  of  the  towers  of  Tripoli,  and  made  prep- 
arations to  attempt  their  contemplated  service 
that  night,  February  7th;  but  before  evening 
one  of  those  heavy  gales,  so  common  on  this 
coast  in  winter,  began  to  blow,  and  the  Amer- 
icans were  compelled  to  put  to  sea  in  haste. 


DECATUR'S   DASH   AT  TRIPOLI.  17 

For  six  days  they  were  storm-tossed,  and  it 
was  not  until  the  afternoon  of  the  16th  of  the 
month  that  they  were  able  to  get  back  to  Tripoli 
again,  and  then  in  a  wretched  plight,  hunger 
for  food  as  well  as  thirst  for  glory  being  now  a 
powerful  sensation  beneath  their  jackets. 

But  the  sight  of  Tripoli  fort,  and  the  Phila- 
delphia  lying   beneath    its  white  walls,  roused 


AN    ENCOUNTER   WITH   THE    BARBARY    PIRATES. 

their  martial  courage  again,  and  although  the 
Siren  had  not  yet  joined  the  Intrepid,  Decatur 
resolved  to  make  the  attack  that  night  at  all 
hazards,  while  the  weather  favored. 

The  Intrepid  stood  in  at  the  main  channel 
about  nine  o'clock,  and  the  night,  although  clear, 
was  quite  dark,  with  the  pale  crescent  of  a  new 
moon  just  sinking  in  the  west. 


18  DECATUR'S   DASH   AT  TRIPOLI. 

The  wind  had  nearly  fallen,  only  a  breath  of 
it  continuing  to  fill  the  sails ;  still  the  ketch  stole 
gently  in,  and  passing  the  Shinel  on  the  west 
side,  glided  slowly  across  the  harbor.  The  pale 
hull  and  tall  masts  of  the  Philadelphia  could 
now  be  made  out,  looming  high  in  the  obscurity. 
So  slow  was  the  progress  of  the  little  craft  that  it 
was  near  half  an  hour  before  they  had  approached 
within  two  hundred  yards  of  the  frigate. 

It  was  Decatur's  plan  to  run  under  her  bows 
and  board  over  the  forecastle.  All  the  Ameri- 
cans, save  the  lieutenant  himself,  the  pilot  and 
two  or  three  others,  were  lying  beneath  the 
bulwarks,  out  of  sight.  The  breeze  soon  failed, 
and  the  Intrepid  lay  stationary  not  over  a  hun- 
dred yards  from  the  frigate.  How  to  move 
nearer  was  a  grave  question ;  but  at  this  moment 
a  puff  of  wind  off  the  land  took  the  sails  aback, 
but  canted  the  Philadelphia,  and  swung  her  at 
her  cables  in  such  a  manner  that  the  two  vessels 
lay  broadside  to  each  other,  and  not  more  than 
sixty  or  seventy  feet  apart. 

Heads  could  be  distinguished  above  the  rail 
of  the  frigate,  watching  the  ketch ;  and  immedi- 
ately a  hoarse  voice  hailed  her,  and  asked 
why  they  did  not  anchor,  the  officer  evidently 
mistaking  the  Intrepid  for  some  trading  craft. 


DECATUR'S   DASH    AT  TRIPOLI.  19 

"  Answer,  Catalano,  and  say  to  him  that  we 
have  lost  our  anchors  in  the  gale  under  Cape 
Misratah,"  said  Decatur  to  the  pilot.  "Ask 
him  to  allow  us  to  run  a  warp  to  the  frigate, 
and  ride  by  her  till  morning." 

Catalano  did  so,  and  after  a  moment's  hesita- 
tion and  scrutiny,  the  Tripolitan  captain  gave 
his  consent,  but  cursed  them  for  a  set  of  lubbers. 
He  immediately  hailed  again,  and  asked  the  pilot 
what  brig  that  was  in  the  offing,  for  they  had 
sighted  the  Siren  at  sea  just  before  sunset. 

Decatur  chanced  to  know  that  the  English 
had  recently  sold  an  old  man-of-war  to  the 
pasha  at  Malta,  and  that  this  vessel,  named  the 
Transfer,  was  soon  expected  by  the  Tripolitans 
to  arrive  from  that  island. 

He  instantly  bade  Catalano  reply  that  the 
vessel  seen  was  the  Transfer.  This  statement 
appeared  to  gratify  the  Tripolitans. 

Meantime  the  boat  of  the  Intrepid  pulled  off 
to  the  side  of  the  frigate,  and  took  out  the 
end  of  a  hawser  which  was  made  fast  to  the 
Philadelphia's  fore  chains.  Three  or  four  of  the 
Intrepid' s  crew  began  gently  hauling  at  this  line, 
to  fetch  the  ketch  alongside.  At  the  same 
moment  a  boat  from  the  frigate  came  across  to 
the  ketch,  for  there  was  evidently  some  distrust 


20 


DECATUR'S   DASH  AT  TRIPOLI. 


on  the  part  of  the  Tripolitans  as  to  the  character 
of  the  Intrepid  and  her  movements.  The  boat's 
crew  at  once  took  alarm,  and  pulling  back  to  the 
frigate,  called  out,  "Americanos!  Americanos!" 


THE    FLAMES    RISING    IN    A    DAZZLING   COLUMN. 

The  cry  was  taken  up  and  repeated  from  a 
hundred  throats,  and  from  that  moment  all  was 
confusion  and  uproar.  The  Americans  behind 
the  bulwarks  of  the  ketch  leaped  to  their  feet, 
and    hauling    at    the     line,     drew     the     ketch 


DECATUR'S   DASH   AT  TRIPOLI.  21 

alongside,  while  the  frigate  crew  was  seen 
pushing  the  tampions  from  the  muzzles  of  the 
broadside  guns,  getting  ready  to  fire. 

With  a  dull,  grinding  noise,  the  Intrepid 
grazed  against  the  frigate's  side;  and  she  had 
hardly  touched  when  Decatur,  leaping  from  the 
rail  of  the  little  craft,  caught  the  main  chains  of 
the  frigate,  and  climbing  to  her  rail  over  the 
channels,  sprang  down  alone  upon  her  deck. 

Midshipman  Morris,  a  little  farther  forward, 
was  on  board  at  about  the  same  moment.  For 
some  seconds  these  two  daring  fellows  were 
engaged  hand  to  hand  without  support.  The 
utmost  confusion  prevailed  among  the  crew  of 
the  frigate,  else  they  must  inevitably  have  been 
cut  to  pieces.  Before  the  furious  strokes  of  their 
cutlasses  the  Tripolitans  drew  back,  and  the  next 
instant  the  entire  party  of  Americans  swarmed 
aboard  and  took  possession  of  the  after-deck. 

Meantime  the  men  of  the  frigate  were  rushing 
up  from  their  berths  below.  Hundreds  of  them 
were  crowded  together  forward,  their  officers 
shouting  wildly  to  them,  and  inciting  them  to 
charge  the  "Americanos." 

But  before  they  could  form  or  execute  these 
orders  Decatur's  men  rushed  upon  them,  cutlass 
in  hand.     A  short,  sanguinary  contest  followed. 


22  DECATUR'S   DASH   AT  TRIPOLI. 

Some  of  the  enemy  fought  with  courage  and 
desperation,  but  the  most  of  them  appeared  to 
be  panic-stricken,  and  crowded  back  upon  each 
other  so  densely  that  even  those  who  would  have 
fought  had  not  room  to  wield  their  weapons. 

Twenty  to  thirty  Tripolitans,  as  was  estimated, 
fell  beneath  the  strokes  of  the  Americans,  and 
many  who  were  wounded  jumped  overboard,  to 
avoid  the  disgrace  of  falling  into  the  hands  of 
the  despised  Christians. 

Less  than  three  minutes  sufficed  to  clear  the 
deck.  Many  of  the  Tripolitans  swam  ashore, 
and  many  others,  taking  refuge  below,  lost  their 
lives  in  the  subsequent  destruction  of  the  vessel. 
Of  Decatur's  party,  strange  as  it  may  appear, 
only  four  men  were  wounded  in  the  affray,  a 
result  probably  due  chiefly  to  the  suddenness 
and  energy  of  their  onslaught. 

The  Philadelphia  was  now  in  the  hands  of 
the  Americans,  and  had  there  been  a  breath  of 
wind,  Decatur  would  have  cut  her  cables  and 
attempted  to  get  her  out  of  the  harbor.  Or  if 
the  Siren,  with  her  men  and  boats,  had  been  at 
hand,  it  is  possible  that  even  so  heavy  a  vessel 
might  have  been  towed  out  of  the  harbor.  But 
none  of  these  facilities  were  at  his  command. 

Meantime,  while  the  youthful  leaders  hurriedly 


DECATUR'S   DASH   AT  TRIPOLI.  23 

consulted  together  as  to  what  course  they  should 
pursue,  the  great  guns  of  the  castle  and  neigh- 
boring batteries  suddenly  belched  flame,  and 
heavy  shot  began  hurtling  and  tearing  through 
the  rigging  over  their  heads.  The  Tripolitan 
fleet,  too,  immediately  opened  fire  upon  the 
frigate ;  numbers  of  these  vessels  were  anchored 
within  two  cable   lengths    of    the   Philadelphia, 

which  suddenly 
became  the  focus 
of  a  cordon  of  fire. 
The  crash  of  her 
timbers  and  the 
whiz  of  splinters 
in  the  darkness  showed  the  adventurers  that 
no  time  must  be  lost  if  they  would  escape  the 
fate  of  Bainbridge  and  his  crew. 

Determined,  whatever  befell  himself  and  party, 
to  destroy  the  frigate,  Decatur  gave  the  order 
to  pass  up  the  combustibles  from  the  Intrepid. 
These  stores,  consisting  of  kegs  of  tar  and  cans 
of  oil  and  turpentine,  were  hastily  passed  on 
board  the  frigate,  and  in  the  darkness,  lighted 
only  by  the  flashing  of  the  enemy's  guns,  carried 
below  and  piled  in  the  gun-room,  berths  and 
cockpit,  storerooms  forward  and  the  berths  on 
the  berth-deck.     An  eighteen-pounder  gun  was 


A   CAPTURED   CORSAIR   CANNON. 


24  DECATUR'S   DASH   AT  TRIPOLI. 

then  hauled  back  from  a  port  and  pointed  down 
the  main  hatch,  in  order  that,  when  the  fire 
reached  and  discharged  it,  the  ball  might  knock 
the  bottom  out  of  the  ship  and  sink  her. 

Despite  the  enemy's  fire  and  the  danger  of 
their  situation,  all  these  orders  were  executed 
with  precision.  Fire  was  then  set  to  the  vessel 
in  five  places,  and  immediately  volumes  of  black 
smoke,  lighted  up  by  flashes  of  flame,  began  to 
issue  from  the  hatchways  and  lower  ports. 

Meantime,  numbers  of  armed  boats  were  seen 
putting  off  from  the  quays  and  from  the  ships 
of  war  lying  near.  Still  Decatur  would  not  give 
the  order  to  abandon  the  frigate  till  assured 
that  the  fire  had  gained  such  headway  that  its 
extinction  would  be  impossible.  Although  the 
Tripolitans  opened  a  musketry  fire  from  their 
boats,  they  did  not  attempt  to  board  the  frigate. 

Not  till  the  flames  were  bursting  from  many 
of  the  ports  and  rising  in  a  dazzling  column  from 
the  main  hatch  was  the  order  given  to  reembark 
on  the  Intrepid.  Little  hope  was  entertained 
of  escaping  by  most  of  the  men ;  for  they  were 
literally  girt  about  with  the  enemy's  boats  and 
ships  of  war,  with  a  tremendous  artillery  fire 
converging  upon  them,  and  so  dead  was  the 
calm  that  the  enormous  volume  of  black  smoke, 


DECATUR'S   DASH   AT  TRIPOLI.  25 

now   brightly    illumined    by   the    flames,    rose 
straight  upward  into  the  sky. 

They  shoved  off,  however,  and  succeeded  in 
getting  clear  of  the  burning  frigate.  Two  sweeps 
were  hastily  rigged.  With  these  they  could  but 
barely  move  the  heavy  ketch,  and  it  seemed 
that,  exposed  to  such  a  terrific  artillery  fire,  the 
destruction  of  the  little  craft  was  certain. 

But  at  this  moment  Providence  supremely 
favored  the  brave  fellows ;  a  breeze  from  the  land 
suddenly  filled  the  sails  of  the  ketch.  She 
stood  away  at  a  good  rate  of  speed  past  the 
Shinel  and  gained  the  outer  bay,  the  cannon- 
shot  plunging  into  the  sea  all  round  her,  throw- 
ing up  white  fountains  which  sparkled  in  the 
ruddy  light  of  the  conflagration.  Only  three 
balls  of  all  those  discharged  at  them  struck  the 
ketch,  and  not  a  man  was  injured. 

Before  they  were  fairly  clear  of  the  entrance 
of  the  port  the  magazine  of  the  Philadelphia 
exploded,  thus  insuring  the  destruction  of  the 
ship;  and  then  with  three  rousing  cheers  of 
derision,  which  could  not  have  failed  to  reach 
the  ears  of  the  corsairs,  they  stood  out  to  sea 
and  bore  away  for  the  fleet. 

M.   A.  Phillips. 


A  TEAMSTER  AT  GETTYSBURG. 

THE  steamer  from  Newbern,  that  carried  the 
wagon-train  of  which  Jim  Wright  had 
charge,  proceeded  directly  to  Baltimore.  At  this 
place  all  of  the  officers'  baggage  and  the  camp 
equipage  of  the  76th  Regiment  were  dumped 
out.  The  wagons  were  then  reloaded  with  am- 
munition, and  rushed  to  the  front. 

It  was  late  in  the  afternoon  of  July  2d  when 
Jim's  wagons  reached  the  vicinity  of  Gettysburg. 
All  day  they  had  heard  the  sound  of  cannon, 
and  toward  noon  had  met  streams  of  wounded 
and  squads  of  prisoners  under  guard. 

Now  the  officers  were  continually  hurrying 
the  trains  forward,  and  as  Jim's  teams  were  in 
excellent  condition,  his  train  was  in  advance  of 
the  others.  He  could  hear  musketry  rattling 
furiously  over  beyond  the  hills  on  the  left,  when 
a  staff  officer  came  galloping  up  to  the  wagons. 

"  What  have  you  in  those  wagons?" 

"Ammunition,  sir;  E.  B.  cartridges,  caliber 
.58,"  answered  Jim,  promptly. 

"Good!  Get  those  wagons  up  to  the  front 
as    quickly    as    possible!       Kill    your    teams    if 


A   TEAMSTER  AT   GETTYSBURG.  27 

necessary,  but  get  there!  The  left  of  our  line 
is  being  flanked,  and  the  men  are  nearly  out  of 
ammunition.      Hurry,  for  God's  sake,  hurry!" 

"  Show  me  where  to  go,  captain,  and  I'll  shove 
those  wagons  there  as  quick  as  mules  can  take 
them,"  answered  Jim. 

"Come  on!"  The  officer  dashed  ahead. 
"  I'll  show  you." 

The  captain  led  Jim's  train  from  the  main 
road,  up  a  slight  elevation,  and  then,  looking 
down  the  steep  hill  and  out  into  the  field  beyond, 
Jim  saw  the  Union  line.  Flashes  and  puffs  of 
smoke  beyond  that  marked  the  enemy's  position. 

A  division  of  regulars  was  retiring  slowly;  on 
their  left  one  battered  brigade  was  stretched  out 
in  single  rank,  with  their  left  flank  "refused,"  or 
bent  back  like  a  door  on  a  hinge. 

"  O  Lord,  we  are  too  late !  The  enemy  are 
on  our  road ! "  shouted  the  officer,  in  dismay. 

"Captain,"  said  Jim,  scanning  the  ground, 
"  I  can  take  a  wagon  down  that  hill,  across  that 
wheat-field,  swing  to  the  left,  and  give  those 
boys  ammunition." 

"If  you  could  you  might  save  the  whole  army. 
But  can  you?"  the  captain  cried. 

The  feat  looked  impossible.  The  hill  seemed 
too  steep.     The  likelihood  that  the  wagon  would 


28 


A  TEAMSTER   AT   GETTYSBURG. 


overrun  the  team  and  be  upset,  and  the  whole 
load  lost,  was  very  great.  Once  at  the  bottom, 
however,  the  teamster  would  be  all  right. 

"  I  can  tie  a  couple  of  dead  mules  to  the  hind 
end  of  the  wagon,  and  they  will  a*ct  as  brakes. 


THE    FOREFRONT   OF    BATTLE. 


I've  let  wagons  down  gulches  worse  than  this,'* 
said  Jim,  confidently. 

"  But  where  are  your  dead  mules?" 
"Here,    captain,"    and    Jim    pointed    to    the 
leaders    of    a  team.     "  I'll  tie  them  on  behind 
the  wagon,  and,"  touching  his  pistol,  "when  we 
begin  to  go  down  the  hill  they'll  be  dead! " 


A  TEAMSTER   AT  GETTYSBURG.  29 

"  Good !  good ! "  said  the  captain.  "  Go  ahead ; 
it's  our  only  chance.      But  be  quick !  " 

"Sam,"  said  Jim,  addressing  the  black  driver, 
"I  want  you  to  drive  your  team  down  there." 

"Yes,  boss,  I  hear  yo\"  was  the  stolid  answer. 

"I'm  going  along  with  you,  Sam,"  said  Jim. 
"It's  mighty  hot  down  there;  we  may  both  be 
killed;  but  those  cartridges  have  got  to  go  to 
the  boys  in  that  line  —  understand?" 

"Sergeant  Jim,"  said  Sam,  "did  de  cap'n  say 
dat  dis  load  ob  ca'tridges  mout  sabe  de  army?" 

"That's  what  he  said,  Sam." 

"  Den,  boss,  I's  a-gwine  ter  take  dem 
ca'tridges  dere.  Jes'  yo'  show  de  way.  I's 
a-gwine  ter  stay  wid  yo' ! " 

"Bully  boy,  Sam!  That's  the  kind  of  talk! 
We  aren't  killed  yet,  and  I  hope  we  won't  be." 

Then  Jim,  having  pointed  out  the  course  he 
wished  the  negro  to  take,  tied  the  two  mules 
doomed  to  serve  as  brakes  to  the  rear  of  the 
wagon,  and  stripped  off  the  canvas  cover. 

"Come  on!"  yelled  the  officer. 

Sam  leaped  into  the  saddle,  cracked  his  whip, 
and  shouted,  "Git — yo'!"  and  the  wagon  started. 

It  was  but  a  short  distance  to  the  summit; 
then  came  a  steep,  rough  descent  to  the  rolling 
field  where    the   Union  line  was  fighting.     As 


30  A  TEAMSTER  AT  GETTYSBURG. 

they  reached  the  crest,  Jim's  revolver  cracked 
twice,  and  the  two  mules  fell.  Away  the  wagon 
went,  plunging,  crashing  down  the  hill,  and 
would  have  been  dashed  to  pieces  had  it  not 
been  steadied,  and  its  speed  checked  by  Jim's 
ingenious  brake.  At  the  base  of  the  hill  his 
keen  knife  severed  the  halters  of  the  dead  mules 
without  slackening  the  speed  of  the  team,  and 
the  wagon  went  flying  toward  the  blue  line. 

The  hissing,  humming  bullets  were  every- 
where; splinters  flew  from  the  wagon,  and  with 
a  shriek  Jim's  horse  stumbled  and  went  down. 

Jim  sprang  from  the  saddle  and  ran  beside 
the  team,  shouting  at  the  mules,  and  soon  the 
wagon  was  in  the  rear  of  the  forefront  of  battle. 

Back  from  the  firing  line  the  sergeants  came 
running  and  eagerly  seized  the  pine  boxes  of 
cartridges.  A  mule  went  down ;  his  harness 
was  quickly  cut  and  the  wagon  rolled  on.  The 
captain's  horse  was  shot  under  him;  he  fell 
with  it  and  Jim  and  Sam  saw  him  no  more. 

At  the  next  halt,  soldiers  with  powder- black- 
ened lips,  bloodshot  eyes  and  ashen  faces  were 
round  them,  yelling,  ''Cartridges!  cartridges! 
cartridges ! "  and  more  of  the  pine  boxes  were 
quickly  pitched  out  and  smashed,  and  the  car- 
tridges in  each  distributed  to  the  men. 


A  TEAMSTER   AT   GETTYSBURG. 


31 


"Pass  the  word  for  the  boys  to  hold  on  hard 
a  little  longer  —  the  Sixth  Corps  is  coming  on 


cartridges!    cartridges!    cartridges! 


the  double-quick,  and  is  almost  here ! "  shouted 
Jim,  as  he  gave  out  the  ammunition. 


32  A   TEAMSTER   AT   GETTYSBURG. 

"They'll  have  to  come  mighty  soon,  or  they'll 
be  too  late,"  said  a  sergeant.  The  leading  mules 
had  been  shot.  Only  three  remained ;  but  on  went 
the  wagon,  Sam  holding  the  leader  by  the  head. 

But  a  slight  hollow  seemed  to  afford  some 
protection,  and  Jim  led  Sam  that  way.  They 
were  almost  there  when  a  withering  volley  felled 
one  of  the  remaining  beasts.  Instantly  Jim's 
knife  cut  the  beast  out ;  then  Sam  grasped  the 
yoke  on  the  wagon-pole,  exerting  all  his  strength, 
and  yelling  at  the  remaining  mule,  while  Jim 
pushed  behind,  and  all  together,  with  one  des- 
perate, final  effort,  they  rolled  the  wagon  into 
the  little  hollow!  At  that  instant  a  bursting 
shell  crashed  over  their  heads,  scattering  its  frag- 
ments in  every  direction,  and  the  faithful  negro 
and  the  last  mule  went  down  together. 

The  soldiers  came  running  for  the  few  remain- 
ing cartridges,  and  Jim  Wright,  picking  up  a 
musket  which  one  of  the  wounded  men  had 
dropped,  ran  with  them  to  the  line. 

"Stay  with  them,  boys!  stay  with  them!"  he 
yelled.  "The  old  Sixth  Corps  is  almost  here! 
Hurrah!  hurrah!  hurrah!  there  they  come! 
There's  the  white  cross,  boys!" 

Down  the  side  of  Little  Round  Top,  in  mag- 
nificent order,  two  full  brigades  came  pouring 


A   TEAMSTER  AT   GETTYSBURG.  33 

on  the  run.  Then  the  feeble  cheer  that  went 
up  from  the  hard-pressed  line  was  drowned  in 
the  crashing  volley  that  came  from  the  troops 
of  the  Sixth  Corps,  whose  advance  struck  the 
enemy's  right  flank,  threw  the  men  into  disorder, 
and  quickly  drove  them  back  into  the  shelter  of 
the  thick  woods  beyond  the  field. 

The  rays  of  the  setting  sun  were  touching  the 
crest  of  Round  Top  when  the  firing  ceased,  and 
Jim  Wright  made  his  way  back  to  the  wagon. 
There  the  black  man  still  lay,  face  downward, 
beside  the  dead  mule,  and  a  froth  was  on  his  lips. 
Jim  snatched  from  the  wagon-box  a  canteen 
in  which  remained  a  pint  or  more  of  precious 
water,  knelt  beside  his  driver,  raised  his  head, 
and  poured  a  little  water  between  his  lips.     The 
drops  revived  the  wounded  man  ;  he  opened  his 
eyes,  and  a  smile  came  over  his  face. 
"  De  ca'tridges  done  got  yere  in  time?" 
"Yes,  Sam,  they  got  here  just  in  time." 
"Den,  boss,  it's  all  right.     Tell  de  boys  dat 
ole  Sam  —  done  stay  by  —  as  long  as  he  las'." 

"  He  was  black  and  a  hero.  He  gave  his 
life  for  his  country  as  truly  as  any  soldier,"  said 
Jim  to  a  grizzled  sergeant. 

Free  S.  Bowley. 


SINKING  THE  ALBEMARLE. 

ONE  of  the  most  daring  exploits  ever  per- 
formed with  a  torpedo-boat  was  that  of 
Lieut.  W.  B.  Cushing,  a  young  officer  then 
scarcely  twenty-one  years  of  age. 

The  terrible  career  of  the  ironclad  Merrimac 
at  Hampton  Roads  was  still  fresh  in  the  minds 
of  the  people  of  the  Union  when,  in  1864,  the 
Confederates  equipped  a  still  more  formidable 
war-ship  in  Albemarle  Sound.  This  ironclad 
ram,  the  Albemarle,  issuing  from  the  Roanoke 
River,  had  defeated  the  Federal  fleet  in  two 
furiously  contested  naval  actions. 

So  successful  had  she  been  that  it  seemed 
probable  that  unless  she  could  be  disabled  or 
destroyed,  the  military  movements  of  General 
Grant  against  Richmond  might  be  seriously 
imperiled.  The  destruction  or  defeat  of  the 
Albemarle  was  therefore  a  necessity. 

Provided  with  only  an  ordinary  launch  and  a 
spar  torpedo  of  rather  complicated  construction, 
Lieutenant  Cushing  volunteered  to  go  up  the 
Roanoke  River,  a  distance  of  seven  or  eight 
miles  from  our  fleet,  and  if  successful  in  passing 


SINKING   THE   ALBEMARLE.  35 

the    Confederate    pickets    and   batteries,  attack 
the  dreaded  Albemarle  at  Plymouth  wharf. 

A  crew  of  thirteen  bold  men  from  the  sailors 
and  marines  of  the  fleet  volunteered  to  accom- 
pany the  lieutenant,  and  on  the  night  of  October 
27,  1864,  they  set  off  on  their  desperate  mission. 

One  of  the  Union  vessels,  the  Southfield,  had 
been  partially  sunk  in  the  river, 
in   the  previous    naval   battles. 
The  Confederates  were  in  pos- 
session   of    the    wreck,    and  it 
was  thought  impossible  for  the 
launch  to  pass  it  undiscovered. 
Should    it   be    discovered,    the 
men  in  the  boat  taken  in  tow      LIEUT- w- B- CUSHING- 
were  to  make  an  attack  on  the  Southfield,  and 
thus  divert  attention  from  the  launch  itself. 

The  channel  of  the  river  averages  about  two 
hundred  yards  in  width,  and  is  rather  tortuous. 
Both  banks  were  lined  with  Confederate  pickets. 
Relying  on  the  darkness  of  the  cloudy  night, 
the  launch  and  her  intrepid  crew  moved  slowly 
up  the  stream,  every  man  watchful  and  silent. 

The  launch  was  not  seen  by  any  of  the  Con- 
federate pickets.  It  crept  forward,  and  passed 
within  twenty  yards  of  the  stern  of  the  wreck  of 
the  Southfield  without  discovery  by  her  sentinel. 


36 


SINKING   THE    ALBEMARLE. 


On  turning  the  bend  in  the  river,  just  below 
Plymouth  wharf,  where  the  Albemarle  lay,  a  fire 
was  seen  on  shore,  almost  immediately  in  line 
with  the  ironclad.     This  proved  of  great  service 


DROVE    HER 
DIRECTLY   AT   THE   BOOM 


to  Cushing  and  his  men,  for  they  could  see  the 
outline  of  the  ram  against  the  light,  and  were 
thus  able  to  locate  it. 

The  launch  was  stopped  for  a  few  moments, 
and  everything  got  in  readiness  for  a  dash. 
The    torpedo-boom  was    hoisted    out,  and    the 


SINKING   THE   ALBEMARLE.  37 

lines  tightened.  The  torpedo  consisted  of  some 
sixty  pounds  of  powder,  placed  in  a  copper  case, 
and  held  in  a  scoop  at  the  end  of  the  spar. 

When  the  spar  was  lowered  the  torpedo  could 
be  projected  forward  and  downward  by  a  sharp 
pull  at  a  line  attached  to  it  and  extending  back 
to  the  stern  of  the  launch;  then  after  it  had 
sunk  to  the  required  depth,  by  means  of  a 
second  line,  it  could  be  exploded. 

"Look  sharp,  and  every  man  do  his  duty!" 
was  the  whispered  command,  and  the  launch 
dashed  forward  at  full  speed.  Before  it  was  the 
long,  dark  hull  of  the  ironclad.  Four  lookouts 
wrere  seen  pacing  back  and  forward  on  her  deck, 
the  light  beyond  the  vessel  revealing  their  forms. 

The  moment  the  little  launch  came  within  the 
wide  circle  of  the  firelight,  one  of  the  sentries 
cried  out,  "  Boat  ahoy  there!" 

There  was  no  reply.  Instantly  the  sentries 
sprang  their  rattles  and  began  to  fire  their  car- 
bines, repeating  the  hail,  "What  boat  is  that?" 

By  this  time  the  deck  of  the  ram  was  fully 
manned,  and  a  rapid  fire  was  opened  on  the 
launch.  Several  of  its  crew  were  shot.  Lieu- 
tenant Cushing  ordered  a  howitzer  to  be  fired. 
The  charge  of  canister  at  such  short  range  con- 
fused the  Confederates  and  flurried  their  aim. 


38  SINKING   THE   ALBEMARLE. 

Meantime,  the  launch  had  reached  the  side 
of  the  ironclad,  and  Cushing  found  that  the 
formidable  vessel  was  protected  by  an  outlying 
boom  of  logs,  that  had  been  placed  about  thirty 
feet  from  her  side.  For  a  moment  he  was  at  a 
loss  how  to  proceed,  but  immediately  brought 
the  launch  about  and  drove  her  directly  at  the 
boom.  The  shock  either  broke  through  the 
obstruction  or  forced  it  in  several  feet. 

A  hail-storm  of  bullets  and  grenades  was 
now  poured  into  the  launch.  Nearly  half  her 
crew  was  hit.  Three  balls  tore  through  dish- 
ing's  clothing.  But  he  lowered  the  torpedo- 
spar,  and  with  a  vigorous  jerk  on  the  line 
succeeded  in  diving  the  torpedo  down  under 
the  overhang  of  the  Albemarle's  iron  armor, 
just  abreast  her  port  quarter,  and  with  a  smart 
pull  on  the  trigger-line  the  plucky  lieutenant 
exploded  the  torpedo. 

The  shock  drove  the  launch  violently  back- 
ward, and  a  tremendous  column  of  water, 
thrown  up  by  the  explosion,  fell  into  it  and 
completely  swamped  it. 

A  hole  about  five  feet  in  diameter  was  blown 
in  the  side  of  the  ironclad,  near  her  bilge. 
Through  this  the  water  poured  with  great 
violence,  causing  the  vessel  to  careen  rapidly. 


SINKING   THE   ALBEMARLE. 


39 


There  was  much  confusion  among  her  crew, 
a  part  of  whom  still  continued  to  fire  at  the  men 
in  the  launch  as  the  little  vessel  lay  disabled 
alongside.  An  officer  twice  shouted  to  Cushing 
to  surrender.  This  Cushing  peremptorily  re- 
fused to  do,  bidding  him  look  to  his  own  ship. 
Then  calling  to  such 
of  his  men  as  might 
be  alive,  he  bade 
.them  save  them- 
selves if  they  could. 
All  this  occurred 
in  less  time  than  it 
has  taken  to  tell  it. 
Cushing  jumped 
into  the  water,  and 
swam  for  the  middle 
of  the  river  —  a 
dozen  bullets  falling 
about  his  head  as 
he  did  so.  Five  or  six  of  his  men,  the  most 
of  whom  were  wounded,  remained  in  the  launch, 
and  were  taken  prisoners  by  the  Confederates. 
Master's  Mate  Woodman  and  a  sailor  named 
William  Hoftman  jumped  overboard  with  Lieu- 
tenant Cushing,  and  swam  away.  They  took 
different  directions  in  the  water ;  and  the  sailor, 


AMONG   THE   REEDS. 


40  SINKING  THE  ALBEMARLE. 

being  a  good  swimmer,  got  ashore  at  some 
distance  below,  and  made  his  way  through  the 
enemy's  lines  to  the  mouth  of  the  river.  He  was 
the  only  man  of  the  party,  except  Cushing,  who 
escaped.  The  lieutenant  himself  swam  steadily 
down -stream  for  half  a  mile  or  more,  taking  care 
to  make  as  little  noise  in  the  water  as  possible. 

At  last,  finding  his  strength  about  gone,  and 
owing  to  the  darkness,  not  knowing  where  the 
shore  lay,  he  swam  feebly,  barely  keeping  his 
head  above  water,  and  he  had  almost  given  up 
hope  of  getting  ashore,  when  his  feet  touched 
bottom  and  he  drew  himself  partly  out  on  the 
mud  among  the  reeds.  So  utterly  exhausted  had 
he  become  that  he  made  no  effort  to  stir  from 
the  place,  or  even  to  get  entirely  out  of  water, 
for  nearly  two  hours,  but  lay  there  in  the  mud. 

Dawn  compelled  him  to  take  some  further 
measures  to  avoid  capture.  He  crept  into  the 
swamp  which  here  bordered  the  river,  and  hid 
himself  in  some  brush  beside  a  path  which  led 
to  a  battery  not  more  than  three  hundred  yards 
distant.  Here  he  remained,  slowly  recovering 
his  strength,  which  had  been  at  its  last  ebb. 

After  lying  there  for  several  hours,  he  crept 
away  through  the  swamp,  and  emerged  near 
a  hut,  two  or  three  miles  below  the  town. 


SINKING   THE   ALBEMARLE.  41 

Presently,  seeing  a  negro  come  out  of  the 
hut,  he  beckoned  to  him,  and  secured  a  promise 
from  him  that  he  would  go  to  the  town,  and  see 
what  the  people  were  saying  about  the  ironclad. 

The  negro  was  absent  several  hours,  and  then 
came  back  with  the  news  that  the  dreaded  ram 
was  truly  at  the  bottom  of  the  river.  This  negro 
also  procured  food  for  the  young  officer. 

Toward  evening  Lieutenant  Cushing  set  off 
again,  crossing  another  swamp,  and  after  a  toil- 
some tramp  through  brush,  mire  and  water, 
found  upon  a  creek  an  old  skiff.  By  this  time 
it  was  dark,  and  in  the  skiff  he  made  his  way 
slowly  down  the  creek  to  the  bay  where  the 
Federal  fleet  lay  at  anchor.  At  eleven  o'clock 
that  evening  Cushing  reported  on  board  the 
Valley  City.  With  a  little  steam  launch  and 
sixty  pounds  of  powder  at  the  end  of  a  light 
spar,  he  had  accomplished  what  the  entire  fleet 
with  its  heavy  batteries  had  attempted  in  vain. 

T.  C.   Hoyt. 


A  NIGHT    RIDE   IN  ZULULAND. 

IT  was  July  4,  1879,  the  culminating  day  of 
the  Zulu  War.  Four  days  previously  Lord 
Chelmsford's  army  had  quitted  its  reserve  camp 
and  had  marched  down  into  the  valley  on  which 
stood  the  huge  circular  kraal  of  Ulundi,  the 
military  capital  of  King  Cetewayo. 

About  half  -  way  along  the  valley  it  had 
encamped  for  a  night  among  some  swamps,  and 
the  next  day  had  tramped  onward  to  the  bank 
of  the  White  Umvaloosi  River.  There  it  had 
formed  a  lager,  and  waited  for  two  days  the 
result  of  an  ultimatum  to  the  Zulu  monarch. 

The  latter  had  pronounced  for  fighting;  and 
so,  on  the  morning  of  the  4th,  the  column  had 
marched  out  of  the  lager,  forded  the  Umvaloosi, 
and  marched  across  the  plain  in  formation  of  a 
hollow  square,  with  its  front  set  toward  Ulundi. 

In  the  middle  of  the  plain  the  word  to  halt 
had  come;  for  that  plain  had  suddenly  grown 
black  by  reason  of  the  hordes  of  Zulus  who  had 
sprung  up  out  of  the  long  grass.  How  fiercely 
they  came  on,  with  what  heroism  the  naked 
men  with  their  hide  shields  in  front    of   them 


A  NIGHT   RIDE   IN   ZULULAND.  43 

charged  up  almost  to  the  points  of  the  British 
bayonets,  how  the  Martini-Henry  bullets  mowed 
them  ruthlessly  down,  till  twelve  hundred  dead 
and  wounded  Zulus  littered  the  plain  in  a  close 
circle  round  the  British  square  —  these  things 
have  now  gone  into  history. 

Half  an  hour  of  steady  firing,  half  an  hour  of 
frantic,  bootless  charging,  half  an  hour  of  stead- 
fast, civilized  fighting  opposed  to  the  reckless 
heroism  of  stalwart  savages  armed  with  assagais, 
sufficed  to  give  the  victory  to  the  British.  An 
hour  later  there  was  not  a  live  Zulu  inside  the 
horizon,  and  the  flames  of  Ulundi  rose  high  into 
the  clear  South  African  air. 

The  night  before  Guy  Dawnay  under  escort 
had  reached  camp  with  despatches  from  our 
base  at  Landmann's  Drift,  one  hundred  and 
twenty  miles  away  on  the  Natal  frontier.  He 
was  to  abide  the  issue  of  the  morrow's  fight, 
and  take  out  to  the  world  the  tidings  of  its 
issue.     On  that  issue  hung  many  dispositions. 

Sir  Garnet  Wolseley  had  been  sent  out  to 
supersede  Lord  Chelmsford,  and  he  was  on 
the  march  with  another  column  to  strengthen 
Chelmsford's  force.  The  battle  gained,  there 
was  no  need  for  that  column  to  advance.  The 
whole  future  pivoted  on  the  result  of  the  fight. 


44 


A  NIGHT   RIDE    IN   ZULULAND. 


That  fight  had  been  fought,  and  we  had  won 
it,  Immediately  after  the  battle  Lord  Chelms- 
ford made  known  to  the  war  correspondents 
that  he  proposed  despatching  Dawnay  and  his 
escort  on  the  journey  back  to  the  base  at  six 
o'clock  the  same  evening,  and  that  he  would 
carry  whatever  messages  should  be  handed  in 

to  the  headquarters 
by  that  hour.  This 
was  considerate  on 
the  general's  part, 
and  due  acknowl- 
edgments were 
made  to  him. 

I  rode  forward 
and  saw  what  of  the 
Ulundi     kraal    the 

I    RODE    FORWAHU    AND    SAW    FLAMES.  n  ,  1 

names  that  were 
rapidly  lapping  up  its  grass-built  huts  would 
allow  me.  I  returned  to  the  halted  column, 
and  then  I  rode  into  the  lager,  whither  our 
wounded  were  beginning  to  arrive.  Leisurely 
I  wrote  a  description  of  the  battle,  for  there 
was  not  much  to  be  made  of  a  combat  so  short, 
so  unmethodical,  so  one-sided.  As  six  o'clock 
approached,  I  crossed  the  lager  to  the  head- 
quarters tent,  where  I  found  Lord  Chelmsford 


A   NIGHT   RIDE   IN   ZULULAND.  45 

and  his  military  secretary,  Colonel  Crealock, 
writing  under  an  awning.  I  laid  down  my 
despatch,  thanking  his  lordship  for  the  opportu- 
nity of  its  transmission. 

"  Oh,"  said  Lord  Chelmsford,  rising  with  some 
seeming  embarrassment,  "  I  have  decided  to 
hold  Dawnay  over  till  the  morning." 

"Till  the  morning!"  I  repeated,  in  absolute 
bewilderment.  The  military  necessity  for 
urgency  was  so  obvious  that  this  intimation 
simply  astounded  me. 

"Yes,"  said  Lord  Chelmsford,  shortly,  "I 
haven't  got  Colonel  Buller's  casualties  yet,  and 
can't  finish  my  despatch  till  I  do." 

What  had  Buller's  handful  of  casualties  to  do 
with  the  broad  issue  that  we  had  won  a  victory 
which  altered  the  whole  face  of  events?  It  was 
as  an  old  soldier,  not  as  a  correspondent,  that 
my  temper  got  the  mastery  of  me. 

"Then,  sir,  I'll  go  myself!"  I  blurted  out. 

Lord  Chelmsford  responded  with  a  bow  and 
smile  in  which  I  detected  a  mocking  incredulity. 
After  that  I  would  have  started  had  the  Zulus 
been  besieging  the  camp.  I  curbed  my  temper 
with  an  effort,  and  determined  not  to  be  outdone 
in  ironical  courtesy,  I  asked,  "  Can  I  have  the 
honor  to  carry  anything  for  your  lordship?" 


46  A   NIGHT   RIDE   IN   ZULULAND. 

His  lordship  had  no  commands,  and  I  was 
turning  to  go  when  Crealock  called  out,  "Wait 
five  minutes,  and  I'll  give  you  a  despatch!" 

Verily  my  enemy  had  been  delivered  into  my 
hand.  As  a  bearer  of  official  despatches,  I 
should  be  entitled  to  claim  a  fresh  horse  at  each 
of  the  intermediate  posts  between  the  Umvaloosi 
and  Ulundi,  of  which  there  were  four. 

I  waited  ten  minutes,  the  precious  sun  sinking 
lower  and  lower  as  I  waited.  Then  my  despatch 
was  handed  me;  I  saluted  and  turned  away, 
then  for  the  first  time  to  realize  my  rash  folly. 
But  I  was  too  great  a  coward  to  remain  after 
that  sardonic  smile  on  Chelmsford's  face. 

A  man  who  means  to  ride  for  life  should  be 
well  mounted.  I  went  to  the  picket-line  and 
looked  over  my  stud.  The  freshest  seemed  the 
horse  I  had  ridden  that  day,  a  well-bred  old 
sorrel  about  fifteen  hands  high.  He  had  courage 
and  a  fair  turn  of  speed.  I  bade  my  groom 
saddle  the  stanch  old  sorrel. 

I  mounted,  and  riding  to  the  tent  of  my  dear 
old  friend,  Gen.  Evelyn  Wood,  I  asked  him  what 
message  I  should  send  to  his  wife  and  mother. 

"Sheer  madness,  your  going!"  exclaimed 
Wood.     "  I  forbid  you  to  leave  the  camp !  " 

Then    I    told  him  how  it  had  been,  and  he 


HE    RKACHEU    OUT    IN    THE    SWINGING    CANTER. 


48  A  NIGHT   RIDE    IN   ZULULAND. 

owned  I  had  no  alternative.  "  God  bless  you ! " 
were  his  last  words,  as  I  rode  away. 

The  last  rays  of  the  setting  sun  flecked  the 
green  slope  above  the  camp  as  I  cantered  up  it. 
There  was  no  road  through  the  tangled  under- 
growth, only  the  marks  that  had  been  made  by 
the  wheels  of  our  wagons.  That  the  dispersal 
of  the  Zulu  army  by  the  defeat  of  the  morning 
had  peopled  the  bush  with  fugitives,  I  was 
certain  ;  and  I  thought  of  the  kraals  our  irregular 
horsemen  had  burned  during  our  advance. 
These  I  should  have  to  pass,  and  some  of  their 
inhabitants  were  sure  to  have  returned,  in  quest 
of  the  stores  of  corn-cobs  buried  under  the  huts. 

Twilight  set  in  as  I  swung  along  with  the 
wheel-marks  for  my  guidance.  For  two  or  three 
miles  all  was  still  save  for  an  occasional  rustle 
among  the  bushes  that  made  my  nervous  horse 
start  and  swerve.  Behind  me  glowed  still  up 
against  the  fast  blackening  sky  the  sinking 
flames  of  Ulundi.  Aye,  and  fires  became  visible 
in  front  of  me,  the  fires  set  in  the  dismantled 
kraals  by  the  Zulus  who  had  returned  to  them ! 

Now  I  heard  the  loud  shouts  of  the  Zulus 
calling  one  to  another  from  kraal  to  kraal. 
There  were  fires  on  the  right  front,  fires  on  the 
left  front ;  but  directly  in  front  was  a  fortunate 


A  NIGHT   RIDE    IN   ZULULAND.  49 

interspace  of  darkness  rendered  blacker  by  the 
fires  on  each  side  of  it.  It  was  a  forlorn-looking 
chance,  but  it  had  to  be  taken. 

I  patted  the  good  old  sorrel,  drew  my  revolver, 
not  that  I  had  any  hope  if  it  came  to  a  fight,  but 
because  of  the  instinct  not  to  die  without  a  trifle 
of  satisfaction,  and  cantered  steadily  on  with 
tightened  rein.  The  shouts  grew  nearer,  till 
they  seemed  in  my  very  path.  In  the  shafts  of 
light  that  came  through  the  foliage  I  could 
discern  the  foam-flecked  forehand  of  the  sorrel, 
as  he  reached  out  in  the  swinging  canter. 

One  loud  shout  close  by,  and  I  touched  the 
sorrel  with  the  spur.  I  never  knew  whether  I 
had  drawn  that  shout,  or  whether  it  was  a  chance 
exclamation.  I  know  I  all  but  rode  over  one 
fire,  and  several  times  distinctly  saw  the  naked 
Zulus  cowering  around  the  flickering  flames. 
Seen  or  not,  I  could  not  have  been  pursued, 
else  for  sure  I  should  have  been  headed,  for  in 
the  darkness  I  dare  not  dash  on  at  full  speed. 

At  last  I  had  lost  my  way  and  sunk  all  my 
bearings.  I  was  among  the  swamps  where  we 
had  camped,  but  I  could  discern  no  way  out, 
and  was  afraid  to  press  on,  lest  I  should  be 
engulfed.  There  was  nothing  to  do  but  to  halt 
till  the  moon  should  rise,  which  would  be  soon. 


50  A  NIGHT   RIDE   IN   ZULULAND. 

The  longest  half-hour  I  ever  spent  in  my  life 
was  when  sitting  there  on  my  trembling  horse 
in  a  little  open  glade,  revolver  on  thigh.  At 
last  the  first  moonbeam  flashed  on  the  upland 
sky-line,  and  then  down  into  the  hollow.  I 
recovered  my  bearings  and  recommenced  my 
journey.  An  hour  later  I  was  challenged  by  a 
sentry  outside  the  reserve  camp,  and  then,  with 
a  long  sigh  of  relief,  I  realized  that  the  most 
dangerous  portion  of  the  ride  had  been  safely 
accomplished.  The  sorrel  had  done  the  twenty 
miles  in  two  hours,  not  including  the  halt. 

I  left  him  in  the  reserve  camp  to  his  well- 
earned  rest.  But  there  was  no  rest  for  me.  I 
had  a  hundred  miles  still  to  ride  through  a 
region  all  but  trackless,  a  region  of  hill  and 
valley,  rock  and  swamp.  How  I  made  my  way 
from  post  to  post,  telling  the  news  as  I  pro- 
gressed, would  be  over-long  to  tell  in  detail. 

Dawn  found  me  at  Fort  Marshall,  trying  to 
eat,  but  able  only  to  drink.  Soon  after  noon  I 
rode  into  Landmann's  Drift,  and  in  ten  minutes 
more  a  brief  telegram  to  Sir  Garnet  Wolseley 
was  speeding  along  the  wires.  Two  hours  later 
came  back  his  cordial  thanks  and  complimentary 
expressions  that  I  should  blush  to  write  down. 

Archibald  Forbes. 


A   TORPEDO-BOAT    IN    ACTION. 

FROM  brave  old  Admiral  Ting  down  to  the 
last  stoker  in  the  cockpits,  every  man  of  us 
who  was  aboard  the  beleaguered  Chinese  fleet 
felt  that  the  end  was  very  near. 

Won  Kee,  our  Chinese  cook,  struck  his  little 
gong  for  breakfast.  Then  Captain  Wung  of  the 
Sun-pai,  a  Chinaman  who  had  been  educated  in 
the  United  States,  Franz  Lotze,  the  German 
engineer,  and  I  went  to  the  galley,  where  we 
made  a  hasty  repast  of  canned  beef,  ship-bread 
and  tea.  When  I  went  on  deck,  fifteen  minutes 
later,  the  sun  was  brightening  the  grim  ramparts 
of  the  western  forts. 

Our  flag-ship,  Chen-yuen,  was  lying  a  few 
hundred  meters  off  our  port  bow.  By  their 
gorgeous  uniforms  of  yellow  and  blue,  I  could 
recognize  Admiral  Ting  and  half  a  dozen  of  his 
officers,  as  they  stood  on  the  after-deck  with 
marine  glasses  in  their  hands.  A  group  of 
sailors  were  heave-hoing  cheerily  as  they  busily 
braced  the  fore-rigging. 

I  was  still  gazing  upon  this  scene  when  a  jet 
of  white  smoke  spurted  from  the  more  easterly 


52  A  TORPEDO-BOAT   IN   ACTION. 

fort,  and  the  resonant  report  of  a  thirty-centimeter 
gun  boomed  across  the  harbor.  With  a  crash, 
the  big  shell  burst  over  the  island  fort  to  our 
left.  One  fragment  of  it  came  screaming  down 
to  the  deck  of  the  Kung-ping ;  others  splashed 
into  the  water  about  the  ships. 

The  Japanese  had  opened  the  ball.  In 
another  moment  the  whole  line  of  forts  along 
the  enclosing  heights  belched  smoke  and  flame. 
Full  fifty  heavy  guns  had  opened  fire  simul- 
taneously. From  the  west  side  of  the  harbor, 
too,  a  dozen  batteries  of  mortar  and  field-pieces, 
skilfully  masked  among  rocks  and  shrubbery, 
chimed  in  with  their  lighter  thunders.  The 
Chinese  forts  on  Leu-kung-tao  and  Isle  Lito 
began  to  reply.  Smoke-clouds  rolled  up  to  hide 
the  sky.     The  noise  was  deafening. 

The  gong  below  struck  the  order  to  quarters. 
At  a  signal  from  the  flag-ship,  the  Sun-pai  cast 
off  from  her  buoy  and  her  screw  began  to  churn 
the  water.  Down  in  the  torpedo  tunnel  I  could 
only  sit  passive  and  watch  the  dial.  Captain 
Wung  was  at  his  post  under  the  little  observa- 
tion drum  or  dome  which,  well-armored  and 
pierced  with  loopholes,  rises  two  feet  above  the 
iron-plated  decks  of  these  boats. 

"Come  up  here,  if   you    like,  till    an  active 


A  TORPEDO-BOAT   IN   ACTION.  53 

order  is  shown!"  he  called  down  to  me,  and  I 
hastened  to  take  advantage  of  his  permission 
that  I  might  see  what  was  going  on  outside. 

The  big  cruiser  Chen-yuen  was  coming  slowly 
about.  So  accurate  was  the  enemy's  fire  that 
six  shrapnel  shells  from  the  Japanese  mortar 
battery  burst  in  quick  succession  over  her  deck, 
sending  such  an  iron  rain  upon  her  armor  as 
must  have  cleared  the  deck  of  men  had  any  been 
exposed  there. 

"By  my  father's  head,  they  fire  well!"  mut- 
tered Wung.  "But  no  better  than  Chinese 
can  be  taught  to  fire,"  he  added,  thoughtfully. 
"  Give  them  training,  and  officers  whom  they 
can  trust,  and  they'll  shoot  all  right." 

As  he  spoke,  a  solid  shot  came  down  with  a 
loud  "sudge"  into  the  water  so  close  to  us  that 
the  torpedo-boat  reeled  upon  the  wave  it  made. 

"That  would  have  smashed  the  Sun-pai  like 
an  egg,,J  said  Wung,  coolly,  giving  me  a  curious 
glance  from  his  oblique  brown  eyes. 

The  next  instant  a  ragged  fragment  of  a  shell 
cut  through  our  deck  plates  and  stuck  there; 
and  two  shrapnel  bullets  came  "ping"  against 
the  little  dome,  within  a  yard  of  our  faces. 

Wung  gave  some  orders  to  the  engineer 
below  and  to  the  Chinese  steersman  aft.     Then 


54  A  TORPEDO-BOAT   IN   ACTION. 

he  lighted  a  cigarette  and  offered  me  another. 
He  was  perfectly  calm  and  knew  the  effect  of 
calmness  upon  his  subordinates. 

Following  the  lead  of  the  cruiser  Chen-yuen, 
we  steamed  round  the  south  end  of  the  Isle 
Leu-kung-tao.  Here,  under  cover  of  Fort 
Koto,  we  were  largely  sheltered  from  the  heavy 
guns  of  the  eastward  forts;  but  now  we  were 
even  more  exposed  to  the  field -pieces  and 
mortar  batteries  which  lined  the  western  shore 
of  the  bay.  The  flag-ship  and  the  protected 
cruisers  were  not  endangered  by  these  light 
projectiles;  but  to  small  craft  the  location  was 
still  more  perilous  than  the  one  we  had  left. 

We  were  not  here  long,  however.  At  a  few 
minutes  past  nine,  as  I  looked  down  the  ship- 
channel  past  the  high,  rocky  shore  of  Leu-kung- 
tao,  I  saw  one  of  the  enemy's  large  war-ships, 
the  Yoshino,  come  into  view  past  the  lower  end 
of  the  island,  not  more  than  a  mile  and  a  half 
away.  She  was  followed  by  the  Naniwa,  and 
soon  five  large  ships  were  in  sight.  They  were 
closing  in  to  engage  us. 

"Look  sharp  for  signals  now!"  said  Wung, 
throwing  away  his  cigarette.  "Watch  the  flag- 
staff on  Fort  Koto.  That  is  where  we  will  get 
our  first  signals  for  action." 


A  TORPEDO-BOAT  IN  ACTION.  55 

The  flagstaff  was  half-hidden  in  smoke.  At 
last  the  clouds  drifted  aside,  and  there  hung 
a  yellow  pennant  over  a  blue  and  a  white, 
which  I  promptly  reported.  Wung  glanced  at 
the  signal  color-sheet,  which  was  posted  on  the 
wall  of  the  drum  in  front  of  him. 

"'Torpedo-boats  prepare!'"  he  exclaimed. 
"That's  for  us!" 

"Hurrah  for  Ting!"  I  cried,  excitedly, 
although  I  knew  what  it  meant  for  torpedo-boats 
to  attack  by  daylight.  Wung  called  the  order 
down  the  speaking-tube  to  the  engineer,  and 
then  looked  through  the  slits  of  the  drum  again. 

"Can  you  see  anything  at  all?"  he  asked. 
"The  pole's  completely  hidden.  No,  there  it 
comes  again.  A  yellow,  two  reds  and  a  blue 
flag,  isn't  it?" 

"That's  right,"  I  said. 

Wung  looked  again  at  the  color -sheet. 
"'Torpedo-boats  form  in  two  lines,'"  he  read, 
and  putting  his  lips  to  the  speaking-tube,  he 
called  out  to  the  engineer : 

"Let  her  go,  Lotze;  quarter  speed!"  And 
then  he  added  in  Chinese  to  the  helmsman: 
"Hard  aport!" 

All  the  small  craft  came  about  simultaneously. 
For  some  minutes  the  confusion  was  extreme. 


THAT    MEANS    GO. 


56 


A  TORPEDO-BOAT   IN  ACTION.  57 

Boats  were  backing,  sheering,  lining  up,  amid  a 
chorus  of  shrill  whistles.  At  last  there  was  a 
semblance  of  order,  and  with  seven  boats  in 
front  and  six  behind,  we  moved  at  quarter  speed 
toward  the  boom,  led  by  the  naval  tug,  which 
went  ahead  to  open  a  joint  and  thus  enable  us 
to  pass  out. 

There  was  a  delay  of  ten  minutes ;  then  we 
filed  out  and  lined  up  once  more.  I  strained 
my  eyes  to  catch  the  signal  through  the  smoke 
which  often  hid  the  flagstaff  on  the  fort.  As  I 
looked,  it  was  shot  clean  away. 

''The  color  staff  is  down!"   I  cried. 

"  Look  to  the  flag-ship,  then,"  said  Wung. 

While  we  were  still  waiting  for  final  orders, 
the  Lu-kien,  a  boat  in  our  front  line,  was  either 
struck  by  a  shell  or  else  her  boilers  exploded. 
With  a  horrible  roar  she  collapsed  and,  with  all 
hands  on  board,  sank  almost  instantly.  Yet 
in  the  terrific  thunder  of  the  fight  about  us,  we 
scarcely  gave  a  thought  to  the  awful  fatality. 

"  Look  for  four  yellow  flags,  one  above 
another,"  said  Wung.  "That's  the  new  code 
signal  for  attack." 

Just  then  a  string  of  colors  went  apeak  on  the 
flag-ship.  "There  it  is!"  I  shouted,  in  a  burst 
of  excitement. 


58  A   TORPEDO-BOAT   IN  ACTION. 

4 'What  do  you  make  it?"  asked  Wung. 

"  Four  yellow  flags  —  sure !  " 

''That  means  go,"  said  he,  calmly,  and  put- 
ting his  mouth  to  the  tube  again,  he  called: 
" 'Forward,  full  speed!      Steady!" 

The  torpedo-boats  had  formed  outside  the 
boom  in  two  lines,  the  Sun-pai  being  the  third 
from  the  right  in  the  rear  line.  But  the  instant 
the  signal  to  attack  was  given  all  order  ceased. 
Each  boat  started  at  full  speed,  as  her  captain 
discerned  the  signal,  and  every  attempt  to  hail 
or  concert  a  plan  of  action  between  boat  and 
boat  was  utterly  drowned  by  the  continuous  roar 
of  the  cannonade.  Every  captain  picked  out 
his  point  of  attack;  every  stoker  heaped  coal 
like  mad  into  his  furnace,  and  down  the  channel 
we  all  went,  pell-mell,  for  the  Japanese  fleet. 

When  we  started,  five  of  the  enemy's  largest 
cruisers  had  come  to,  off  the  lower  end  of  Leu- 
kung-tao,  and  had  opened  with  their  long-range 
guns  upon  the  Chinese  fleet.  Shells  and  solid 
projectiles  were  hurtling  over  our  decks,  but  I 
do  not  think  that  the  Japanese  were  aware  of 
our  attack  until  we  were  well  on  our  way. 

We  were  completely  shrouded  in  a  choking 
fog  of  our  own  smoke,  and  it  was  probably  this 
moving  cloud  that  first  warned   them  of  their 


A  TORPEDO-BOAT   IN   ACTION.  59 

danger.  At  the  time  I  could  not  see  fifty  feet 
ahead,  but  I  have  since  been  told  that  in  response 
to  a  signal  from  the  Yoshino  the  five  cruisers 
backed  off  for  half  a  mile  and  took  up  a  semi- 
circular position,  while  they  hastily  brought  their 
Hotchkiss  and  other  rapid-fire  guns  to  bear  on 
us  in  a  convergent  storm  of  shot. 

In  the  bow  compartment  of  the  Sun-pai  I  had 
a  torpedo  ready  set  for  discharge,  while  three 
others  were  prepared.  My  two  Chinese  assist- 
ants squatted  there,  waiting  to  work  the  apparatus 
at  my  bidding.  For  the  first  half-mile,  however, 
I  remained  with  the  captain,  looking  out  of  the 
loopholes  in  the  dome. 

As  we  dashed  forward  we  could  discern  the 
outlines  of  one  or  two  boats  ahead  and  abeam 
of  us,  but  not  much  else.  In  the  lulls  of  the 
cannonade  we  could  hear  the  thrashing  of  our 
screw  in  its  rapid  pulsation. 

"  I  shall  make  for  the  nearest  ship  I  see,"  said 
Captain  Wung,  "and  I'll  tell  you  when  to  let 
go  at  her.     Never  mind  the  dial.     I'll  call  out." 

As  he  spoke,  a  Japanese  ship  suddenly  opened 
her  battery  of  rapid-fire  guns:  Flash!  flash! 
flash!  They  seemed  to  spit  red  flame  through 
the  smoke  in  front  of  us. 

"To  your  post,"  said  Wung,  with  a  quietness 


60  A   TORPEDO-BOAT   IN   ACTION. 

of  manner  that  I  could  not  but  admire.  "I 
know  you'll  do  your  duty,"  he  added;  " all  we 
can  do  is  to  die  like  men." 

I  had  scarcely  reached  my  post  when  the 
Sun-pai  bumped  into  the  boat  ahead  of  us  and 
scraped  heavily  along  her  side.  A  solid  shot 
had  pierced  her  boiler ;  she  came  to  a  standstill, 
and  soon  sank.  I  felt  that  we  had  veered  from 
our  straight  course,  but  from  the  quick  throb 
of  the  screw  and  the  noisy  rush  of  the  water 
outside,  I  knew  that  our  speed  had  not  abated. 

A  horrible  explosion  followed  right  abeam; 
something  heavy,  like  a  gun  or  smoke-stack,  fell 
on  our  deck.  I  knew  by  the  sound  that  some 
boat  near  us  had  blown  up.  The  Sun-pai  rocked 
violently  and  veered  again.  Where  we  were 
heading  now  I  had  no  idea.  Captain  Wung 
was  probably  trying  to  keep  clear  of  other  boats. 

Then  came  a  sickening  shock  that  seemed  to 
stop  us  short.  The  steelwork  about  me  vibrated, 
and  a  frightful  metallic  ripping  of  wrenched  iron 
seemed  to  pass  from  stem  to  stern.  A  shot  had 
struck  us. 

My  two  Chinese  shrieked  with  terror;  both 
sprang  to  gain  the  deck.  "Back!"  I  shouted, 
and  seized  one  of  them ;  the  other  slipped  past. 

The  boat  rocked  unsteadily,   but    the    screw 


A   TORPEDO-BOAT   IN   ACTION. 


61 


was  still  going.     On  the  floor  of   the  lookout 
Captain  Wung  lay  on  his  back.     He  was  dead, 


% 


V    w* 


"we  can't  stop  her! 


I  thought,  as  I  saw  blood  about  one  ear.     But 
he  stirred,  and  presently  struggled  to  his  feet. 

Above  us  the  iron  dome  had  disappeared,  and 
with  it  the  funnel  and  most  of  the  deck  plating, 


62  A   TORPEDO-BOAT   IN   ACTION. 

stripped  off  by  a  single  shot.  The  next  moment 
a  percussion  shell  struck  us  forward,  and  a  storm 
of  smashed  oak  planking  and  twisted  iron  flew 
over  our  heads  as  we  squatted  on  the  floor  of 
the  unprotected  compartment.  It  must  have 
been  the  end  of  poor  Lotze  and  the  stokers,  for 
we  never  saw  them  again.  Apparently  this 
shell  did  not  burst  till  it  had  reached  the  after 
part  of  the  deck,  for  a  great  hole  was  torn  out 
there  clean  down  to  the  bunkers.  Steersman, 
wheel  and  steering  chains  were  gone. 

We  had  changed  our  course  again,  and  were 
heading  toward  the  northwest  shore  of  the  bay. 
A  war-ship  lay  ahead  of  us. 

11  By  the  face  of  Tau  !  "  exclaimed  Wung,  still 
somewhat  dazed.  "  Helm  gone,  and  steersman, 
too!  We're  going  straight  for  the  Tschiyoda. 
Her  guns  will  open  in  another  second." 

"  Shall  I  shut  off  steam?"  I  shouted. 

There  was  nothing  of  the  coward  in  Wung 
Tsai,  whatever  may  be  said  of  his  race.  "  No !  "  he 
cried.     "  Let  her  go !     Get  out  your  torpedoes !  " 

The  Tschiyoda's  guns  began  to  get  our  range. 
I  swung  down  the  scuttle  to  the  forward  com- 
partment. The  Chinese  assistant  whom  I  had 
prevented  from  escaping  crouched  beside  the 
tube,  staring  wildly,  paralyzed  with  fear. 


A  TORPEDO-BOAT   IN   ACTION.  63 

"  Out  with  you  !  "  I  screamed,  for  there  was  a 
hole  in  the  bow  plates,  and  in  a  few  moments 
the  place  would  be  full  of  water. 

Before  we  could  get  out,  however,  Wung 
called  out  to  me,  "  It's  useless;  we  sha'n't  strike 
her!     We're  going  clear." 

As  I  clambered  up  I  saw  the  high  side  of  a 
war-ship  looming  over  us  not  twenty  meters 
away.  Several  officers  and  a  squad  of  marines 
stood  at  her  rail.  One  or  two  marines  cracked 
their  carbines  at  us,  and  an  officer  pointed 
toward  us  with  his  sword  and  laughed.  I  fancy 
it  was  an  order  from  him  that  saved  our  lives. 
The  Sun-pai  was  an  utter  wreck,  and  to  shoot 
us  seemed  like  murder.  He  stepped  forward 
and  shouted  "Surrender!"  first  in  Chinese  and 
then  in  English. 

I  saluted,  and  making  a  speaking-trumpet  of 
my  hand,  shouted  back:  "We  can't  stop  her; 
she's  unmanageable !  "     They  laughed  again. 

Meanwhile  we  had  cleared  the  Tschiyoda  and 
were  pointed  directly  for  the  high,  steep  shore 
of  the  channel,  scarcely  two  hundred  meters  off. 
The  Sun-pai  was  leaking  fast  and  had  settled 
visibly  when  she  struck  the  shore  with  a  violent 
shock.     Even  then  her  screw  continued  to  turn. 

We  jumped  off  the  bows  into  five  feet  of  water. 


64  A   TORPEDO-BOAT   IN   ACTION. 

My  Chinese  assistant,  the  only  survivor  of  our 
crew,  ran  off  along  the  beach ;  but  Wung  and  I 
made  for  some  copses  of  evergreen  among  the 
crags  above  us,  hoping  to  conceal  ourselves  and 
await  the  coming  of  night. 

Bitterly  cold  and  drenched  to  the  skin,  we 
squatted  in  a  thick  clump  of  bushes,  and  might 
have  made  our  escape  had  not  a  mob  of  Chinese 
seen  us  from  the  shore.  In  hopes  of  reward, 
these  wretches  gave  information  to  the  enemy's 
pickets.  Before  we  guessed  our  danger  a  lieu- 
tenant and  six  men  were  upon  us.  We  were 
covered  by  their  rifles,  and  there  was  nothing 
for  it  but  to  crawl  out  and  surrender. 

The  lieutenant  treated  us  most  politely,  and 
seeing  that  we  were  soaking  wet,  he  offered  us 
his  cigarette  case  with  a  most  engaging  grimace. 

That  night  we  spent  aboard  a  troop-ship,  and 
a  day  or  two  afterward  we  were  transferred  to 
some  prison  barracks  below  Yokohama.  It  was 
nearly  four  months  before  I  once  again  enjoyed 
my  liberty.  F.   R.   Lance. 


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